


Extra Credit

by Lazarel



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Black Hat is not a nice man, F/M, Teacher-Student Relationship, age gap, dubcon, mild grooming, mind the tags please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-09-01 00:49:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20249419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazarel/pseuds/Lazarel
Summary: The room is quiet except for the frantic scribbling of your peers as they hurry to finish the in-class book exercise assigned by one of the most callous Professors in the Institute, Professor Black Hat. A man that inspired equal-parts fear, equal-parts respect and adoration from the eccentric student body and staff which formed part of the school.You, however, only found him... unnerving.





	Extra Credit

**Author's Note:**

> Alright guys, I'm a huge horndog and that one drawing did nothing to quench my thirst so here we are.  
Also this is for a very special friend of mine, you know you are~! ;)
> 
> (Again mind the tags, if you're sensitive to this material, please please do not read)

The afternoon sun washes through the glass windows of the Institute, it paints the part of the room where you sit in orange and yellow hues staining your surroundings in warm color tones. The room is quiet except for the frantic scribbling of your peers as they hurry to finish the in-class book exercise assigned by one of the most callous Professors in the Institute, Professor Black Hat. A man that inspired equal-parts fear, equal-parts respect and adoration from the eccentric student body and staff which formed part of the school. 

You, however, only found him... unnerving.

You finished the assignment a long time ago, but refused to look up from your workbook to the man sitting on the ancient-looking desk at the front of the classroom. You knew— _felt_ his stare bore into you the minute you stopped writing over the pages of your book, your knees closing together while pulling down at your black skirt - uncomfortable, when the intensity of his eye lands on you.

Lately, coming to school— no, more like coming to _his _class made you uneasy, even if you had worked hard to be accepted into his curriculum in the first place, being one of the credits you needed to apply for the Program in the field you had chosen just last year. Yet despite this and for that very aforementioned reason, you had taken the decision to request for transfer. Having placed the slip on his desk when you arrived earlier to class, timing it so as not to give him a chance to ask any questions when the rest of your classmates swarmed into class as well.

Truth be told, it wasn't all that bad.

At first.

He picked you the very first day of class to be his errand girl, his teacher's pet; sending you to rinse out his coffee mug, get copies for the rest of the class and pass out classroom materials, erase the board, make his coffee, dust the chalkboard eraser and so on and so forth... You thought it normal at one point, what with you being a girl and all - as most teachers in the Institute still held archaic believes regarding gender roles, so why would he, as brilliant as he was, be any different. 

And perhaps the seriousness in his demeanor was the reason why you never would have thought him capable of anything else, even when the cafeteria staff looked surprised to see you so nonchalantly waltz in to wash his coffee mug.

'Now, I've never seen _that_ before_.'_ One of them said.

'Figures, he'd pick something like_ that_ to be his pet.'

"Shush, y'all! Don't start spreading rumors now, you don't want to see him pissed- I've seen him pissed and is not pretty." Said the amicable head cook.

They all abruptly turned around going silent the moment you looked back to meet their eyes, not completely understanding the underlying meaning of their conversation.

But then the staring began...

One afternoon, and many more after that, when you stood on your tippy-toes after class to erase a lecture note - him being so impossibly tall and you so short in comparison - your skirt would ride up as you reached above your head and then you'd hear him stop working altogether, a heavy stare roaming over your legs and thighs: How bright your face burned then— going even redder still when he admonished you for taking so long in doing such a menial task. Or the times like today when you felt him focus on you while completing schoolwork during class, well aware by now what your pencil had stopped moving a long time ago. 

He unnerved you in a different way than the Chemical Science and Math Professor did whenever he got too invested in a class experiment. The unusual paperbag covering his face gave him an air of goofy intensity whenever someone spoke out of turn or chortled under their breath at his expense, yet was always easily pacified with empty praise to his intellect.

But Professor Black Hat was different, there was no laughter in his class and no way to lighten his ever present sour mood - there was only work, work, work and more work.

"But he's so dreamy~ You should be grateful you were accepted into his class!" Your friend sighs, twirling her unruly green hair around her fingers as she watched him exit the cafeteria last week.

"I guess, but still." You'd said, sipping from the straw of the school issued milk carton, "I'm gonna request for a transfer."

"Ugh, you're so lame, you're gonna regret it!" She replied, elbowing you hard in the ribs.

Now you take the opportunity to make a clean escape as soon as most of your classmates get up to turn in their workbooks for grading when the bell rings, signaling the end of the class period and the end of the school day as well.

"Young lady, stay after class."

His words, like heavy concrete, weigh you down in place right as you are about to reach the door, and end up watching the crowd exit the room instead. They shoot mocking glances and whistles at you. 'Oooh what'd chu dooo,' someone says under their breath, 'Teacher's pet in trouble?' says another.

The mocking jeers go silent once the door closed shuts.

You swallow through the tightness in your throat, addressing the man sitting behind you, on his desk. "Yes, Professor, what can I do for you?" You ask, voice even, turning around to meet his gaze.

"What is this." He demands, tapping with an elegant fountain pen the request for transfer slip.

"A request for transfer, Professor."

"Don't be cheeky with me, you know what I'm asking." His rasping voice dark and unimpressed.

"I-I, I've... just realized this class is not for me, Professor."

He replies with a sardonic scuff, "What a ridiculous thing to say, it's one of the classes you need to enter the curriculum for the program you desire." Slowly, he pushes the old chair back letting it scrape with a jarring sound against the floor below, slowly making his way to tower over you. You always forget how incredibly tall he is until moments like this happen, he's so close now that you have to crane your head back to meet his eyes.

Your knees then buckle, feeling like jelly under the pressure of his gaze, so you take a few steps back toward the door, stopping once your backside hits a desk, severely miscalculating your escape path as you try to come up with a decent reason why you want to transfer out without being outwardly rude to your Professor. "I'm just having a hard time keeping up with the material this semester, Professor, maybe next one would be better for me instead."

His eye narrows. clearly not buying your excuse.

"Hard time keeping up? My, I wouldn't have known judging by the work you've been turning in— But if you felt that you required more credits, then I can always offer you extra course work." He says hovering over you, caging you in place as the palms of his hands come to rest over the small surface of the desk behind you. His hat obscures his ivory eye and shining monocle, the scent of his cologne invades your nostrils with the musky overtones you sometimes catch whiffs of when he leans a bit too close to explain a book exercise.

Your mouth goes dry, never having had a fully fledged adult man like him so close before, without mentioning the already overbearing pressure of his presence. "What," you stumble over your own words, "what kind of course work would that be, Professor?"

He smiles, almost feral and very much like knives, as an abysmal feeling of dread ensnares your senses.

He takes your hands guiding them toward his chest, tells you to keep them there over the lapels of his suit. You do as you're told without question, taking deep breaths of air, the only thing audible in the stillness of the room - most students and teachers having already left the building to go home or to their extracurricular activities. You know at the back of your mind that this situation is not quite right, but the interest he is showing in you now is so very different than the one he shows toward your fellow classmates and you'd be lying if you said you didn't find it a bit intoxicating.

His hands move from your hands to your upper abdomen, encasing it in them. Their heavy weight felt through the fabric of your grey sweater and red shirt of your uniform.

"You've grown so much during spring." He comments, and your eyes close to avoid meeting his hungry stare, face flushing at his comment.

"Th-thank you, Professor." Your voice tight, barely above a whisper.

He gives your body a small squeeze as a response, then moves the large digits of his thumbs up to the underside of your breasts causing your breathing to hitch, but otherwise remain in place. Abnormally large hands cup their curvature, bringing their plumpness together under his grasp.

"Good girl," he says as your hands leave his chest to hold onto the desk's edge behind you for purchase, still making no move to leave or shove him away - only biting at your bottom lip to keep the noises at the back of your throat from coming out.

No one has touched you like this before, yet you don't find the foreign sensation unpleasant. He knows this, judging by the obvious red that tints your cheeks, ears and neck. He continues to smile, all sharp teeth and mean edges, hands moving further down over your grey sweater, coming to rest over the fabric of your skirt at your hips.

"What... what're you going to do...?" You whisper.

A wolfish grin dawns over his face and small trails of saliva pool at the corners of his mouth.

"Nothing you don't want me to do, my precious girl."

And those words send your mind reeling, a fluttering warmth spreads throughout your chest, coming to rest low in your gut, sending an unfamiliar thrill from head to toe in an instant. An uncharacteristic low raspy moan passes through your lips and immediately you bite them to hide your embarrassment as he laughs diverted by your reaction.

Seconds later, he becomes serious again as he kneads the side of your hips for a moment more before his hands continue to travel down, down, to the hem of your short skirt, dipping underneath it to touch your bare thighs. Your body jerks a bit at the touch of the rough skin of his hands, your breathing becoming strained under the pressure of the surreal situation. Wrong, wrong, this is very wrong - your better side continues to admonish but you ignore it, desperate to continue to receive the Professor's undivided attention. 

His thick thumbs then hook over the soft cotton fabric of your white panties, his eye trained on your face - perhaps looking for a reaction right before he starts to slowly pull them down. Your chest tightens, watching your panties slide down your legs, the white fabric contrasting with the grey of his large hands, there's a wet stain on them a tell-tale sign of the inappropriate excitement burning in your lower abdomen. Embarrassment governs you still, making your knees jerk together to hide them.

Hot breath grazes your face as he speaks in low coaxing tone, "No shame in that, it shows you like me a lot..." yet your knees won't budge, "because you do like me, don't you?" 

You've no choice but to nod with a quiet keen, looking down before parting your knees to let him continue pulling them down, down, down until they fall to the floor, over your polished black Mary Jane shoes, observing that the nails on his worn hands now resembled claws when they come back to explore the exposed area under your skirt. And still you do not move to make your way toward the door, which has remained unlocked the entire time... Your thoughts are interrupted when his long fingers disappear under the folds of your skirt, caressing the place between your legs while his other hand holds the curve of your hips in place.

"Do you touch yourself often?" He asks.

Your breathing stops, but the thumping in your ribcage hammers on inside your skull as you struggle to register what was just asked. The tough skin of his digits tracing your moist slit.

"No, Sir... no just— " His middle finger dives in to press against your clit. The back of your right hand flies to your mouth, biting it to repress the sobbing gasp rushing forth.

Emboldened by your reaction, he continues to press against it, massaging the spot there in slow agonizing circles, delighting in your outburst with quiet, dark cunning laughter. "Then I can learn you how..." Pushes against the heated entrance, rubbing with a slow flicker of his wrist, "Like this," hisses against your ear.

"Ohh, Professor..." Your voice tight over the lapels of his coat. "It feels... _good_." 

"That's the idea..."

There is a mounting sensation pooling at the base of your pelvis, right where cramps hit the worst during that time of the month— only that now, a building soporific warmth washes over your lower extremities. You've heard of this feeling, specially from your precocious green-haired friend, but never have you dared to do anything like this—too embarrassed to explore or touch more than necessary there. Yet here was this man whom you've only feared a few minutes prior, taking his time to explore places you never dared to before.

Soon your hips begin to jerk, following the touch of his thick calloused fingers only to have him pull away. Your eyes snap open at the loss, wondering what could have possibly made him want to stop. The hand at your hip covers your mouth to keep you from speaking as footsteps and loud chatter come very close to the classroom's door. His slanted eye instantly zeroes in on the door's handle, leveling it with a threatening sneer. But the noise comes and goes down the hall, the creaking of the double doors leading to the outside yard opening and shutting with their distinct bang.

Turning back, a Cheshire grin draws upon his green fangs once more. "And here I thought we were all alone." However, something in the tilt of his voice tells you he knew better. "But look what mess you've made of my hand." He says unabashed, bringing it up to show you the wet slick from under your skirt.

"... I'm sorry!" The words spill from your lips before you can stop them, an almost automatic response from the times you inadvertently managed to piss him off.

"Then clean them," he says and slides his fingers against your strawberry lip-balmed lips.

This you understand, so you obediently open your mouth to suck on them, tasting yourself with the salty flavor of his own skin. Their rough wide pads resting against your pink tongue. Oh God, had you been in any other position than this you would find this appalling, but the searing intensity of his eyes goads you to continue, even taking hold of his rough hand in between your smaller ones, barely able to encase it into yours as you begin to bob your head up and down in what you hope is an appealing manner. This much, at least, you know to do.

"How lovely and dutiful you are..."

There is the warm feeling again that soothes over you upon receiving his praise - rare as it is, it never failed to warm your cheeks, this being no different. A satisfied hum rises from the tightness in your chest, becomes nearly unbearable when you notice his free hand rubbing his hardened bulge covered by the fabric of his pants. Pulling your mouth off from his fingers with a loud pop, your gaze follows the movement down below - interested and apprehensive at the same time at seeing a man's erection up close.

"Have you ever had a man before?"

Your scandalized silence answers his question.

"Of course you haven't."

Suddenly, he hoists your legs around his waist, carries you to the other side of the room to drop you over the cool surface of his desk. You yelp at the rough handling, happening so fast that you barely had any time to react at all But soon your mind is distracted once more as he goes to undo the fly of his pants and his endowed erection emerges forth. Your hands cover your mouth, face burning at the sight which was nothing like the crude drawings you happened upon in the school's dingy bathroom stalls. The engorged flesh looked heavy and frankly a bit intimidating, with its many ridges and bumps along its length, clear oozing liquid already coating its surface.

He could not seriously expect you to...

"...Professor Black Hat, ...you're so... _big_." Your voice breaks in the last word.

He responds with low chuckle, "Yet you have nothing to compare it to. Or do you...?" He asks with a faint threat underlying his voice.

"No, Mr. Black Hat, you're," you quickly respond, "you're my first."

A self satisfied grin plasters on his face as he comes closer and parts your legs. "Don't worry, you'll enjoy it."

He reassures you in the unusual cavernous cadence of his voice even as your chest begins to rise and fall, hesitant while watching the thing between his legs twitch in attention, seeking some type of relief. It doesn't wait long as Professor Black Hat grabs it at the base and begins to pump it in slow but firm strokes. You watch wetting your lips, your legs unconsciously parting more to give him more room so you can see it up close, curious as if it were an exotic animal and not the cock of the Professor whose class you've come to hate so much.

"Enjoying the show?"

You look up and see a dark hooded eye staring down at you, a dangerous tilt adorning the corner of his mouth. Before you can answer, he takes hold of your hips and drags you forward to the edge of his desk, you go without complain though your hands do come again to splay against his chest, gasping as the large head of his cock rubs against you.

"_OhMyGod,Sir,pleasedon'thurtm_—_ !_" comes the hurried plea for mercy from your lips.

He snorts out a chuckle as if he had just played a silly prank on you, "Of course not, young lady. Do you take me for one of the hormonal brutes littering the halls." He says leaning down and toward you, invading your vision. "Not that I like holding back."

His eye widens and narrows again, the dark circles under his visible eye somehow make him look more handsome and experienced under the shadow of his ever present black top hat, his snake tongue coming out to savor the air of your frantic panicked breathing. He holds the base of his hardened length, aligning himself to rub the head of his sex against your own, enjoying the way your eyelashes flutter shut losing yourself in the sensation once more. He works himself slowly into the folds of your lips, and you swear there must be something on his drooling seed that makes your pussy throb at the contact. your head lolling to the side as a low moan raises in your chest, the sound so incredibly filthy even to your own red hot ears.

"... what a sweet voice. I'll have you singing my name in no time." Saliva drips from his mouth as his demeanor changes to something dark and all-consuming, something which you should have feared the first time he set his sights on you.

And with that he finally pushes inside.

You stop breathing for a fraction of a second, your brain struggling to catch up as your stimulated entrance does nothing but welcome the large length making its way into your silky warm walls. All the air rushes out from your lungs at once in a high pitched half-moan half-sob - more over the overwhelming sensation of the situation than out of any real pain, though his cock does cause dull pressure at first which soon subsides and turns into a lukewarm sensation, unlike anything you could have ever imagined and so different from what your friend would tell you during your last sleepover only a few days back.

He seemed to be fairing better than you for his part as he exhales hot puffs of air in the close proximity of your bodies, his eye fixating on the way your swollen lips work to accommodate and make way for the girth of his length. Talon hands grasp at your knees with a strong force, the tense line of his arms and shoulders tells you he did not lie when he admitted disliking holding back, then finally sinks most of his length into you. Translucent green slobber practically gushes forth through gritted neon fangs, the very same ones you caught yourself staring at many times during his extensive lectures.

The image etches itself into your mind right as he, without much warning, snaps his hips forward.

A loud cry surges from you with the unexpected movement, it echoes in the supposed emptiness of the building as he too stills for a moment. A few seconds of silence pass without incident, only to be interrupted by his voice.

"Empty, as your little friend's head."

You pause, surprised that he would even know or care about your life outside of his class, but the moment soon passes when he pulls back to sink into you once more.

"Oh, ohhh... _fuck!_!"

"Language, young lady." He scolds while his dick pulses in your tight cunt. The irony of it all lost to you with the slow movements of his hips.

"I'm sorry, Professor, Sir, but... please- Ohhm... please don't- don't stop... !" 

Your brows pinch upward, exhaling around the air as you struggle getting air inside your lungs. The hand not holding onto his shoulder slides down to rub at your clit the same way he showed you earlier, feeling hot under the suffocating layers of your uniform.

"That's right... good girl... Touch yourself just like I showed you." His hands hold onto your sides as his pace quickness, the unrelenting thrusts of his hips diving in and out of your abused cunt.

A myriad of moans, gasps and keeing sounds you were unaware you were even capable of making rush forward, your Professor's name is a constant in all of them.

"Black Hat, Sir... you're- you're so _good_, hmg-ohhh fffu— this feels soo good!!"

The sound of slapping flesh against flesh inundates the classroom, only interrupted by the noise outside of the Institute's after school sports clubs. Your phone goes off a couple of times, all of which remain ignored when you are so busy losing your virginity on your least favorite Professor's desk. Both hands circled around his neck as you move your hips to meet him halfway. Your core warm and pliable for his endowed length, perspiration surfacing on your face, mixing with the the threatening tears at the corners of your eyes, too lost on him to notice them—specially when he whispers words of praise loud enough for you to hear next to your ear. Has you wondering why you wanted to transfer out of his class in the first place.. when his rapacious hunger could keep you here forever for all that you cared now... 

The sweet sensation from before slowly builds up again, your moans grow louder just as the pace of his hips stutters as well. His hard length pushes against something inside you, tearing a high-pitched hoarse moan from you. 'Found it' he says and angles himself to pummel there again and again with quick pistoning motions against your tight contracting walls. 

"Black Hat, Sir—!"

And your mind goes blank for what seems to be an eternity, so incredibly full, eyes rolling back with a cry of pure unadulted bliss, back arching as your body seizes and unwinds, overcome by the sensation of your first orgasm at the hands of your Professor.

Hot fluid rushes to flood the insides of your overstimulated core. Professor Black Hat lunges forward cursing under his breath through an guttural snarl, burying himself to the hilt, filling you to the brim with his heavy spurting seed as if to ensure every corner of your silken warmth is filled with his potent thick cum. Relishing in the warm heat wrapping around him until the pressure of his overflow manages to leak out from the sealed rim connecting him to you, making a mess on the linoleum floor below as more cum continues to fill your insides.

A short stretch of time passes before he moves again, unlike you - who needs more time to recover. Your locked hands slide from the neck of his suit to your sides, using them to support your own weight as you land over the desk's surface.

A late thought crosses your mind amid the haze of your exhaustion, "Professor, you-... we didn't use a condom..."

"Too late for that, you little fool." He replies, sounding unapologetic as ever before pulling out. 

Your mouth goes slack watching his coated cock easily slip out, your walls twitch at the sensation of emptiness left there. The green milky substance on him has taints of pink and red mixed in, it takes you a moment to realize that the traces of blood belong to you.

"You were not lying after all," he says from above. "Good, I don't like liars."

"No. Professor— I would never." Your wet eyelashes flutter shut as the sweat over your face finally cools down though the blush on your cheeks still dusts your face.

The bright sky from earlier has changed to dark crimson colors as the day turns into dusk. His silhouette somehow looking darker against the colors the classroom glows in, as if he were entirely made from shadow alone. A sharp glint of red bright light shines from his bone-white eye as he continues to watch your form with a perturbing focused stare. A shiver runs down your spine and you finally decide to cover yourself with the hem of your short skirt as if that could hide what just took place now.

He stops you though, grabs your wrists and guides them to his shoulders to then procure a handkerchief from one of the breast pockets on his dress shirt, using it to wipe at the slick, cum and pink residue coating your thighs and tender flushed skin.

"This will be our little secret, do you understand, unless you want to get an F in my class." He says while his large hands continue to work between your legs.

"Yes, Professor Black Hat, I understand." You say, not fully understanding what you're getting yourself into.

"Good, good. Smart girl." He says and pockets the handkerchief again, fixes his coat and readjusts the disheveled clip on his black tie.

You do your best fix yourself as well, though the sore state you're in makes it a bit more difficult to slide off his desk, specially when you can still feel cum slip inside you. He hands you your forgotten cotton panties from the floor, you thank him before slipping them back on through shaking legs as he watches you with mild interest.

"Now then," he speaks again, brandishing the request for transfer form which has somehow materialized on his hand, "this will no longer be necessary."

He says and tears the slip in two with both hands in front of your face.

"Next week we will do another session of Extra Credit," he says as if he were merely delegating just another homework assignment to the class, but his tone lowers placing his hands behind his back as he comes to loom above you once more. "Now grab your things, I'll give you a ride home."

Your stunned silence lasts only for a second before he speaks again.

"**Now, girl!! Or do you want to go another round!**?"

The severity of his voice makes you jump, "No, Professor! Just let me get my things."

The uproar of his laughter echoes throughout the empty building as you scramble to obey.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment if you enjoyed pls, love hearing from you all <3
> 
> sorry for typoes I was trying to edit this thing during company time and before tonight's livestream lol
> 
> My tumblr if you're interested: lazarel-3000.tumblr


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